


Vignettes

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Babies, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, F/M, FitzSimmons Seychelles Holiday, Flirting, Fluff, Lab fluff, Marriage Proposal, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Road Trips, Some Action, That's a Thing I Swear, basically everything, some peril
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 13,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles as prompted by my Tumblr followers.</p><p>All the cool kids have one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Do you see me here on the high road? I can see everything from here."

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/147974149132/do-you-see-me-here-on-the-high-road-i-can-see) by [recoveringrabbit](http://recoveringrabbit.tumblr.com/).

"Do you see me here on the high road? I can see everything from here."

“Are you quoting song lyrics, or …”

“Ugh, Fitz,” Jemma spat, causing Fitz to back away from the phone receiver, “why do you always take something breathtakingly romantic and turn it into a joke?”

Fitz only smiled at her sudden change in tone, muting his phone and putting it in his pocket. He could see her alright, standing behind a sign that read “Scenic View” with one hand holding a phone to her ear and the other lifted up to welcome the dawn.

It wasn’t long before he could see what she saw—spacious blue skies, amber waves of grain, purple mountain majesties—but what she couldn’t see was the way he carefully crept up behind her, eliciting an “Oof!” when he spun her around and captured her lips with his, pulling her closer and closer until he truly took her breath away.


	2. "You lost him?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/147974673482/you-lost-him) by [omgfitzsimmons](http://omgfitzsimmons.tumblr.com/)

"You lost him?!"

Fitz heaved a few breaths in and out before he could look carefully around the corner and verify his hypothesis.

“Yeah,” he finally said, still gasping for air as much as she was, “I told you Hunter taught me how to lose a tail.”

He was rewarded by her breathy laugh, and when he looked at her, he saw her shaking her head at him as she countered with, “I never said he didn’t.”

He stilled as her eyes met his, her mouth curving into a mischievous smile as she closed the distance between them.

“So,” she said, trailing her fingers up and down the edges of his lapels, “any plans?”


	3. "We're not calling her that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/147975222112/fitzsimmons-were-not-calling-her-that) by [undercovermarvelgeek](http://undercovermarvelgeek.tumblr.com/)

"We're not calling her that."

Jemma’s jaw dropped as she looked from the ultrasound to her frowning husband.

“Margaret is a perfectly lovely name, Fitz.”

He folded his arms and glowered at her, a movement unexpectedly softened by the glint from his wedding ring. “She’ll get teased for it, just like I was when my mum insisted that I go by Leopold.”

“Oh, Fitz,” she soothed, setting the ultrasound down to wrap her arms around him and bury her head in his shoulder, “I’m sorry for what happened to you, but older names are coming back into style now! Besides, we can call her whatever we like—Meg, Margo, Maggie … Peggy.”

She sensed a question in Fitz’s exasperated groan, and she had no doubt that he understood the eloquent laughter that formed her answer.


	4. "Why are you laughing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/147975679567/why-are-you-laughing) by [omgfitzsimmons](http://omgfitzsimmons.tumblr.com/)

"Why are you laughing?"

Her frustration only grew when Fitz refused to answer her, opting instead to continue chortling even after she put her hands on her hips and attempted the most intimidating stare she could muster.

“Fitz?”

He looked up at her then, all smiles and blue eyes in a way so childlike that it nearly took Jemma’s breath away.

“Yo—” he started, interrupted by giggles, “Yoyo asked me what April Fool’s Day was … and, and, I guess I gave her too good of an explanation.”

Jemma’s confusion only grew until Fitz pointed behind her and she followed his direction, finding herself confronted with her own reflection and surprised to discover two large, dark rings around her eyes that undoubtedly came from looking into her microscope.

Fitz’s laughter only intensified when she let out a string of curses at him.


	5. "Come on, it wasn't that bad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/147976322067/come-on-it-wasnt-that-bad) by [omgfitzsimmons](http://omgfitzsimmons.tumblr.com/)

"Come on, it wasn't that bad."

Fitz frowned at the woman who claimed to love him, finding her peals of laughter thoroughly discouraging.

“Oh, Fitz, it was, it truly was,” she snickered, attempting to take another swig from her beer bottle before grimacing in pure delight. 

“Did he really … how do you say …” said Elena, growing thoughtful over a beer bottle of her own, “did he actually lose his … his bottoms?”

“In my own defense, the current was very strong, and the swim trunks were a little big on me,” said Fitz, setting his beer down so he could wrap his arms around his legs and wonder why he thought crashing a girl’s night was such a good idea in the first place.

He waited for someone, anyone, to stand up for him, but instead, Daisy gave him an exaggerated once over with her eyes before the girls exploded in laughter once again, leaving a heat that trailed all the way up Fitz’s neck as he buried his head in his lap.


	6. "Daisy doesn't need to know this, Jemma!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/147977772752/daisy-doesnt-need-to-know-this-jemma-for-the) by [fitzsimmonsftw](http://fitzsimmonsftw.tumblr.com/).

"Daisy doesn't need to know this, Jemma!" 

Jemma simply stared at him, as she opened, then closed, then opened her mouth at him.

“Well, I um, I didn’t … I didn’t _tell her_ anything, really,” she defended, finding herself shrugging despite her best efforts, “and all I really said was … was that you … well, you and I were … that _we_ had  … that we made sure it went to a better place.”

Fitz brought two fingers to his temple as he pursed his lips. “So you’re telling me,” he said, “that after two and a half _years_ of strict secrecy, you just told Daisy all about the time we accidentally opened the Bus hangar and dropped her van into a junk yard?”

“Well,” she said, raising a finger to the ceiling to punctuate her point, “she doesn’t know that it was a junk yard. I think she thinks it ended up in some commune somewhere.”

Fitz put his head in his hands, mumbling as he walked away.


	7. "Which one did it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/147978249622/which-one-did-it-fs) by anonymous.

"Which one did it?"

Honestly, Fitz’s guess was as good as hers, but she wasn’t going to tell him that she wasn’t sure which of the three chemical compounds in question it was that had finally dissolved the strange, alien metal.

And really, she should know, but their relationship was still very new, and she kept finding herself … distracted.

“Well,” she said in a desperate attempt to cover, “I’ll have to run the test again to be completely sure.”

She was almost certain that she’d successfully deceived him when her traitorous eyes flicked down to his lips, only to find he was doing to same when she returned her gaze to him.

She wasn’t sure if he moved first or if she did, and it was quite possible that they did it in unison, but as his lips met hers, was was absolutely certain that science could wait.


	8. "That isn't yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/148024038947/that-isnt-yours-fs) by [sassy-superheroes](http://sassy-superheroes.tumblr.com/).

"That isn't yours." 

“It literally has my name on it, Fitz,” Jemma shot back, examining the small, metal sphere at all angles.

“Well, uh,” Fitz sputtered, “that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s yours, does it? I mean, it could belong to any number of other women named Jemma!”

She froze, then peered at him through her eyelashes as she tried to determine just what could possibly make Fitz quite this agitated.

In the end, though, Jemma decided that she didn’t have time to play games with him, rolling her eyes as she deposited the sphere into his cupped hands and returned to her project.

Fitz waited until her back was turned to lean against the table and push the button that collapsed the sphere into a disc the size of a quarter, depositing Jemma’s engagement ring into his palm. Fitz closed his hand around the ring and closed his eyes, thankful that Jemma hadn’t found out about his proposal until he had everything ready.


	9. "Can we just stay like this forever?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/148332212107/fitzsimmons-can-we-just-stay-like-this) by [inevitablyfitzsimmons](http://inevitablyfitzsimmons.tumblr.com//).

"Can we just stay like this forever?"

Jemma craned her head back to look at him, basking in the feel of the soft sand under her feet, the cool breeze that brushed fabric of her dress against her legs and, most importantly, the warmth of his arms as they enveloped her. The sunset lay before them in pinks and oranges that spilled into the ocean, making it glow. 

“Well,” Fitz whispered in her ear, “I think Coulson would have something to say about that.”

It was to much to take, his scruff tickling her ear, his laugh rumbling against her back, and she turned to face him, taking his face in her hands as she kissed him with purpose and intent, only releasing his lips when her smile was too wide. She caught his eye and saw the sunset’s glow reflected in them. She shrugged with one shoulder, still smiling.

“Who’s Coulson?” 


	10. "I said no."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/148666043542/i-said-no) by [omgfitzsimmons](http://omgfitzsimmons.tumblr.com/).

"I said no."

When Fitz crossed his arms and pouted— _pouted_ —like a five-year-old, Jemma’s resolve hardened behind her smile.

“But Fitz,” she soothed, closing the space between them with a hand on his shoulder, “our honeymoon should be somewhere remote and secluded, don’t you think?” She slid her hand up his neck until her fingers carded the hair at the back of his head, and his eyes drifted shut.

She was sure she’d clenched a victory when his eyes snapped open, and he brushed her hand away.

“Three months doing research in Antarctica isn’t a honeymoon, Jemma,” he argued, rubbing the back of his neck, “and I’m not going to let you … _seduce_ me into it.” 


	11. "No, it's just . . . it just hit me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/148668234497/no-its-just-it-just-hit-me) by anonymous.

 

"No, it's just . . . it just hit me."

Jemma wiped away the remnants of her last bite of cookie dough and made an unsuccessful attempt at swallowing it before she let out a, “Hmm?”

Her fingers were so slick with butter, flour, and salt that she was completely powerless when Fitz swiped the bowl out of her hands and took a thoughtful taste of his own.

“You were in love with me at the academy,” he answered easily, and when he saw the way her forehead creased, he shrugged a shoulder at her.

“Only love could make something taste this divine,” he said with a smirk so tempting that Jemma simply had to kiss it away.


	12. "Okay, I know you said no, buuuuut..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/148669154857/okay-i-know-you-said-no-buuuuut) by [omgfitzsimmons](http://omgfitzsimmons.tumblr.com/).

"Okay, I know you said no, buuuuut..."

Jemma spun around with folded arms and a prepared glare that Fitz completely ignored.

“Did you know,” he said with an infuriatingly adorable grin, “that they’ve added a penguin exhibit to the zoo?”

His hands, clasped together in unbridled enthusiasm, faltered when they met her raised eyebrow.

“For the last time, Fitz, I am not obsessed with penguins!”

But Fitz refused to take that for an answer, arguing for while she argued against, and as their bickering heated up into something far past silly, Jemma found herself shouting, “I like penguins an average amount!” right as Coulson walked in the door.  


	13. Fitz and Jemma share a morning routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the [AoS Advent Calendar](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/aos-advent-calendar), Day 30 (prompt by me)!

“Did you always do this?”

He’s massaging a crick in his neck, and she’s not sure if he’s simply curious or too tired to outright complain about it. She steps off the treadmill anyway.

“Are you okay?”

She ignores his mumbled protests as she examines him for herself, but his fingers catch hers.

“I’m fine, Jemma. Just slept on it wrong.”

She looks down to where his fingers tangle with hers, close enough to sense the way his chest rises with each breath. He nudges her with his elbow.

“Hmm?”

He looks down on her with curious eyes, “You never answered my question.” He nods towards the treadmill. “Must have been recent, or you would have passed your field assessments.”

Her throat is dry, she realizes. Her chest is heaving, too. She’d been too worried about him to notice. She slips out of his grasp and retrieves her water.

“Not long enough.”

She takes a few cold, wonderful gulps and doesn’t have to look at him to know the way he’s cocking his head at her, frowning. She takes one final swallow and wipes her mouth.

“Does it matter?”

He furrows his brow. “No, but …” He scratches at his stubble. “I mean, it’s just …”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence, because she’s felt it, too. They’ve been side by side since they were seventeen, and they’re supposed to know everything about each other. Especially now.

She ducks her head, admitting defeat at the same time she steels herself for what’s next. “I had to do _something_ while you were ill.”

It happens just as she expects. He takes a step backward like she just slapped him across the face. But it’s the way his face softens and twists into understanding that pierces her heart.

“It wasn’t your fault, Jemma.”

Somehow, she laughs.

“I know, Fitz. It’s just, I thought I was prepared for everything. I wasn’t.” The unbidden memories crash over her, the breathlessness that came when she broke the surface. The ache in her legs as the saltwater splashed unto her eyes. Fitz’s eyes drooping shut. She grimaces before taking another gulp of water. “Now I am,” she says.

“No one can be prepared for everything,” he says, wringing his hands.

“No,” she agrees. “But you never know when someone will need you. Or how.”

He folds his arms and stares at her a good, long while before he walks up to her slowly, puts his hand and the back of her head, and kisses her on the forehead. Does she taste like the ocean?

He doesn’t say. He only licks his lips and walks back towards his dresser.

“You’ll wake me up, yeah?”

She watches him rifle through his top drawer with her brows drawn together. “You look wide awake to me.”

“Yeah,” he says, throwing a smile over his shoulder. “Yeah, but I’ll have to be awake tomorrow, right? So I can join you?”

Her smile is only a shadow of the warmth that spreads all the way through her.

“You’d better be,” she says.


	14. Those three little words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the [AoS Advent Calendar](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/aos-advent-calendar), Day 28 (prompt by me)!

Jemma wakes to the soft glow of morning and smiles because he’s the first thing she sees. She props herself up on an elbow carefully, watching him breathe in and out, transfixed by the magic of it. She’s watched him sleep before, when she was afraid he’d never wake up, and when the gravity was so light that she thought she’d float away from him. It’s different now. The sun streams through the windows and lands on him like some holy relic. Is that what he is? She’s prayed for him, searched for him, offered up her life for him. He might as well be.

He stirs a little. Not quite waking up, just shifting so his closed eyes face upward. She’s the first person to see him today, and since the day is still being born, it almost feels like she’s the only person who’s seen him at all, like she’s the only one who can have him.

Her hands move of their own accord, trailing along his hairline as she wonders what it would have been like to do this before he cut off his curls. She should build a time machine, she decides. Go back and knock some sense into herself. Him too, if she has to.

His eyebrows scrunch together and he shifts to follow the trace of her fingers, but she knows it won’t bring him to the land of the living quite yet. She can reach his stubble and stamp her lips on his, and he still won’t wake.

She hovers a millimeter above him, the hint of him still on her lips, and watches the wonder of his breathing.

“I love you,” she says, quietly, but louder than yesterday, or the day before. She’s been practicing, but it’ll be a while before she can say it to Fitz when his eyes are open.

“I love you.”

She gives him another kiss before she forces herself to get out of bed and start her day. It’s not until her back is turned that Fitz’s lips widen into a satisfied smirk.


	15. Fitz’s updates for Coulson’s hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the [AoS Advent Calendar](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/aos-advent-calendar), Day 26 (prompt by [omgfitzsimmons](http://omgfitzsimmons.tumblr.com/))!

“Do you see it?”

Jemma put a hand on Fitz’s shoulder to steady herself as she squinted at the screen.

“I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

“Here, let me freeze frame it … there!”

What Jemma saw was really a red and blue blur attacking a black and silver blur. 

“Fitz, I’m not seeing anything.”

“There!”

He had to move the video forward a few frames before they got a clear shot of what looked like a boy in a red and blue suit attacking a fully-grown man with a silver arm. 

“That’s the Winter Soldier!”

Fitz eyed her. “Bucky Barnes, actually, but I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about this.”

Fitz pointed towards something black that was wrapped around the boy’s wrist. A watch? But no, a black stripe of _something_ went down the boy’s arm towards his elbow, causing Jemma to furrow her brow.

“It’s his webbing,” said Fitz.

“Webbing?”

“Here, let me show you.”

He pressed play, and she was amazed at what she saw next. Somehow, the boy managed to grab the Winter Soldier’s fist to prevent his punch, creating an apparent stalemate until none other than Falcon swooped in and carried the boy off. But as amazing as it was, it was nothing compared to what came next.

“Whoa.”

She stood there gaping as she saw the boy shoot a white substance from his wrist and use it to swing through the rafters. She’d never seen anything like it.

“Like I said, I think the webbing comes from that contraption,” said Fitz, “and that means that it doesn’t come from his powers. We can replicate it.

Her brow furrowed. “Replicate it? Why?” Then it clicked and she turned to him. “ _You’re_ not going to—”

“No!” Fitz shook his head to emphasize his point. “It’s not for me. It’s for Coulson.”

All of Jemma’s worry instantly melted, and she crossed her arms in a huff. “Oh,” she said. “Yes, I’m sure that Coulson needs yet another function for that hand of his. What will you make it to do next? Help Coulson fly like Iron Man?”

Fitz thoughtfully stroked his chin. “You know, we could miniaturize the repulsor technology …”

“Ugh, Fitz!”

“If we put the homing beacon over there,” he said, pointing at the schematics, “then we’d have room for—”

“Fitz, you are not putting repulsors in—”

“Of course, then we’d need a second repulsor to balance it out. Would we need a glove for the other hand?”

He continued prattling on until Jemma gave him an exasperated “Fitz, _please,_ ” and he turned on a heel to face her.

“Fitz, you can’t just put repulsors _and_ webbing in his arm! It’s too much!”

Fitz looked at her for a silent moment before he came up to her and gently placed a kiss on her cheek. 

“Does that mean that you have no interest in figuring out what that webbing is made of?” He cocked his head to the side in a dramatic show of supposed disbelief. “Because I could ask one of the other scientists. Agent Carre, perhaps.”

Jemma was ready for steam to come out of her ears until she started wondering what exactly that webbing could do. Was it biodegradable? If so, how long did the process take? In the end, though, she let out a sigh and reluctantly picked up the SHIELD file on the spider boy, only setting it down when she had an idea. 

“Ugh,” she groaned, “now I want to know everything about that boy and what he can do, with power and without.”

Fitz grinned so wide that his face seemed to glow.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	16. FitzSimmons struggle to act professional around the new director

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the synopsis for the first episode of season four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/149669035226/aos-advent-calendar-22-days-to-go) by [wakandandperthshire](http://wakandandperthshire.tumblr.com/). <3

“You know,” said Fitz, “it’s getting harder and harder to trust you these days.”

Jemma stopped cold, then turned to cock her head at him. “Excuse me?”

Fitz didn’t bother to look up from the folder he was flipping through when he said, “You know, with your new position and all. Who knows what secrets you’ll divulge to that new director of ours?”

She almost shot back a response when she saw him lift the corner of his mouth, and all offense dissolved into fond exasperation. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Fitz,” she replied, sidling up behind him. She double-checked to make sure they were alone before she put a hand around his bicep and whispered into his ear, “I think I’ve done a pretty good job at keeping _us_ a secret from him.”

If she had invaded his personal space before, Fitz completely obliterated it when he turned to face her.

“Oh, is that so?”

He was teasing her. She _knew_ he was teasing her. After all, the director’s new policies on fraternization between agents had been perfectly clear. And yet, she couldn’t help it when her eyes dropped to his lips and she shivered with joy. It was hard to forget that their first kiss (and their second) had been in this very spot, and she was sure she would never ask for anything else if she could only have a third. But even being in a relationship put them on thin ice, and he had to know as well as she that since they were not behind closed doors, this could go no further than mere flirtation. Why did that make it all the more tantalizing? 

Jemma smirked at him and backed away, relishing the way he stumbled forward after her. “Does that make me trustworthy?”

Fitz blinked once, then twice. “Hmm? Oh, perhaps. I’ll take it under advisement, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated, unable to stop the grin from spreading across her face. They would have to finish this conversation later, and if she was lucky, it wouldn’t require words.

But when Fitz chose that exact moment to make eye contact and flash a cheeky, intoxicating smile, she almost decided that she couldn’t wait. She was just about to surge forward, take his face in her hands and remind him just how true she would be when Fitz paled and took a step back.

“Good morning, sir.”

Jemma turned to see none other than the director walking into the lab, nose buried in some report.

“Simmons, Fitz,” the director greeted, causing Jemma to wince. He didn’t know that it was always Fitz first, _then_ Simmons, and he might ask too many awkward questions if she tried to correct him. Jemma clasped her hands behind her back.

“Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

He was so engrossed in his report that she wasn’t sure he even heard her until he said, “Yes, I was hoping you could translate this into layman’s terms. I just … I don’t get how this subject can have prehensile hair? How does that work?”

He grimaced at the report, and Jemma sighed. It was going to be that kind of day, then. If they didn’t want Coulson, why did they hire someone who asked so many questions? Well, Jemma told herself, at least he was curious. It didn’t mean that she’d look forward to the hour or two she’d spend explaining a concept that was fairly useless to him, but it did help to look at the bright side.

“Oh,” said Fitz, “I’m sure you can _trust_ Jemma to break it down for you." 

It took all of Jemma’s restraint to not throw every protocol to the wind and kiss that self-satisfied smirk right off of him.

"I’m sure I can,” agreed the director. “Agent Simmons, my office, please.”

Jemma groaned internally when the director crossed towards the exit on the opposite side of the lab, but at least she got to pass by Fitz when she followed him. And if she squeezed Fitz’s hand and shot him a look as she passed, was it really that much of a problem? 

After all, the director’s back was turned, and it was Jemma’s responsibility to warn Fitz of her plans of retaliation when she got back.


	17. Fitz's corny jokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/149764204091/aos-advent-calendar-20-days-to-go) by [omgfitzsimmons](http://omgfitzsimmons.tumblr.com/)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I've been a little behind in bringing these over from my blog, so please bear with me while I get things up and running again! Thank you!

“So,” Fitz said as he slid an arm around her shoulder, “what’s our story going to be?”

Jemma looked over at his self-satisfied smirk. The boy thought he was so sly. She should have punished him by scooting out of his reach, but found herself putting her head on his shoulder instead. “What story?”

“You know,” he prodded, “the story we tell people. Of how we got together.”

“What’s wrong with our actual story?”

“Well,” he said, “for starters, the majority of it is classified, but also—”

“Also,” she cut in, “there are parts we want to forget about.”

Jemma fully intended to say it as a joke, but the truth of her statement felt like a brick in her stomach. She wished, not for the first time, that the enclosure for the monolith had stayed shut, and the two of them had been spared the heartbreak with lingering sharp edges. She tried to give Fitz a fake smile when he looked at her, and failed miserably.

“Do you like my cardigan?”

“Hmm?”

Fitz nodded towards the fabric under her cheek. “My cardigan. Know what it’s made of?”

“Cotton?”

Fitz flashed her a cheeky smile. “Not cotton, Jemma. _Boyfriend material_.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“That’s how we got together. We were in the lab one day, and I told you my shirt was made of boyfriend material, and you couldn’t help but agree.”

Jemma scoffed at him. “Boyfriend material? Really?”

“Well,” he allowed, “there are other things I could try. For example, I could have told you that your lips looked lonely, and I offered to introduce them to mine.”

This time, her scoff turned into a full-blown chuckle, and she swatted at him. “ _Fitz_.” 

“Or,” he exclaimed, “or, you could have asked me to hold on to something, and I could have said, ‘I can’t hold on, because I’m falling for you.’”

That one deserved an elbow in the ribs, and Jemma grinned from ear to ear when he yelped. 

“What was that for?”

“Fitz, you know what that was for.”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “Trying to cheer me up. Really.”

He put up his hands in surrender, though the fact that his arm was around her shoulder muted the effect. “You were smiling,” he defended, “then I said something that made you stop smiling, therefore I had to say something to make you smile again. That’s the rule, and you know how you are about rules.”

“That’s funny,” said Jemma, “I don’t remember instituting that rule.”

“Well,” he replied. “who’s to say where these things come from? All we know is that they’re the only thing standing between us and utter chaos.”

That one drew a laugh straight from her belly, causing her to curl into his shoulder and bury herself in his scent.

“How about this,” she offered as soon as she recovered, “we were friends for ten years, then you told me you had feelings for me, and I had to take a moment to think about it, but I eventually concluded that you were the best man I’d ever met, and I’d be a fool not to fall in love with you.”

She assumed that he was about to say something in return, but she cut him off with a kiss that was long and sweet, and when his eyes stayed closed for a good while after, she knew she’d done her job.

“You know what the best part of that story is, Fitz?”

Fitz answered by way of a dreamy silence.

“It’s absolutely true,” she said.

“Jemma,” said Fitz, his eyes still closed, “that is the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”


	18. ALL of Jemma’s eye rolls when people claim that Ghost Rider really is magic!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/150055042132/aos-advent-calendar-14-days-to-go) by me.

“Ugh.”

Fitz sees it out of the corner of his eye and tries to contain his smile.

“What was that again, Mack?” he asks, turning away so Jemma won’t break his composure.

“Look,” says Mack, “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m telling you: this guy had flames coming out of his car. _Flames._ And the car was still going! I’ve been working on cars since I was old enough to hold a wrench, and I’m telling you, that car should have exploded. There’s no logical explanation.”

“So you’re trying to tell me there’s a supernatural one?”

Fitz hasn’t heard that tone from Jemma since he and Mack were in the business of body snatching. He didn’t have to bite back a giggle last time. But there she is, wearing her multi-spectrum goggles and looking absolutely adorable in her attempts to look severe.

“Hey now,” Mack says, holding his hands up in surrender, “you saw the footage. Can you explain that? I don’t consider myself superstitious, but—”

“Ugh, Mack.”

Fitz’s jaw dropped. “Did you …” he says, “did you just _ugh, Mack_ him?” His head is spinning, but he knows what he heard, and he definitely saw the eyeroll that went with it. The realization of it stirs a curious swirl of emotions within him. Is he amused, betrayed, or defensive of his friend? All three at once, it seems.

The confusion only intensifies when Jemma rolls her eyes yet again. It’s at least the sixth time she’s done that during this conversation, but it’s the first time she’s directed it at him.

“I will have you know, Fitz,” she says, folding her arms, “that there are other things in this world that exasperate me besides you. People attributing things they don’t understand to magic is one of them. You would think that in this day and age, people wouldn’t have to stoop to—”

“So you really think you can explain it,” challenges Mack.

Jemma blinks at him, and Fitz’s grin returns when he imagines just how unused Jemma must be to such blatant interruptions of her science rants.

“Of course we can,” says Jemma. “If Fitz and I can travel across the universe and back, we can do anything.”

He’s about to continue his teasing when he sees it, the slight flicker in her eyes that matches the twitch from the corner of her mouth. Mack probably missed it, but Fitz knows her better than anybody.

“Yeah, of course we can,” chimes in Fitz,” moving to stand next to her and mirror her stance. “We’ll sort out this whole Ghost Rider business. With science. You’ll see.”

He is rewarded by a smile, but when her eyes meet his, he is once again bowled over by the love he sees in them.

“I don’t know,” says Mack, “I’m not sure you can solve this one. Maybe some things are meant to be unsolvable.”

Fitz finds himself rolling his eyes this time, and from the look on Mack’s face, he knows that Jemma must have gone for eyeroll number seven at the same time. Mack smiles and shakes his head at them.

“Okay,” he says, “ I know when I’m outnumbered. Just, don’t beat yourself up about this one, okay? Mystery is part of what makes life beautiful.”

Mack gives them a shrug and a chuckle before he leaves them to it, and Fitz ponders just how odd it is that there are some people who honestly don’t want to understand everything.

“Fitz,” Jemma eventually says, “can you actually picture an infant Mack, holding a wrench?”

Fitz grimaces, disturbed by the thought. “No.” He looks towards where his hulking mass of a colleague is walking away. “I guess I always assumed that he came out of the womb looking like that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jemma nod. 

“Me, too.”


	19. Lab Flirting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/150150551742/aos-advent-calendar-12-days-to-go) by [omgfitzsimmons](http://omgfitzsimmons.tumblr.com/).

Jemma pursed her lips together in concentration as she weighed her beaker, almost jumping when Fitz’s voice rang out behind her.

“Jemma, are you using that scale all by yourself?”

She glared at him, holding some concoction of his own and eying that scale like it was a sandwich. Well, someone had to teach him not to sneak up on people who were handling dangerous substances.

“Yes,” she answered. “You can’t use it.”

She didn’t mean it, of course, but she hoped Fitz wouldn’t notice. When his hands rested on his hips, she felt the thrill of victory.

“Really?”

He probably thought his adorable pout would win her over. He was right.

“I’m serious,” she teased.

“Okay,” he said, clearly baffled. “Well, do you know where I could get another one?”

“I don’t want to get another one. I have this one.”

“What?” Fitz blinked at her. “No, I meant for me.”

Jemma took her beaker off the scale and absolutely refused to look at Fitz.

“I think Agent Carré has one.”

She didn’t have to see his frown to know it was there, but she snuck a glance anyway.

“I don’t like hers; they’re faulty.”

“Why would Agent Carré use faulty scales?”

“Because she’s bad at her job.”

Jemma gaped at him in an attempt to keep from smiling. “Fitz,” she admonished, “don’t say that about a fellow agent!”

Fitz only shrugged. “It’s true isn’t it? I think I’ll just use yours.”

Before she could stop him, he wormed his way around her to take possession of the scale. And tare it, the prat. She rolled her eyes in retaliation and got absolutely nowhere.

“How do you know _this_ scale isn’t faulty?”

Fitz looked up at her, then stepped back from the scale. “You wouldn’t use a faulty one.”

“Well,” she challenged, “how do you know I didn’t use a faulty one just to trick you?”

She attempted to cross her arms before remembering that she still had the beaker in her hand. She moved forward to set it down, only to realize that Fitz was very, very close. Close enough that she could smell his aftershave and study the contours of his lips.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he said, looking down at her. She swallowed.

“Wouldn’t I?”

Was she imagining things, or did he move just a hair closer?

“You wouldn’t risk scientific inaccuracy, just for me.”

“You’re right,” she said, standing on her toes so she could raise herself to his height, “but then, why should I have to?”

There were a million images running through her head of just what would happen next, so when Fitz lunged forward to plant a short, sloppy peck on her lips, she burst out laughing.

“Fitz!”

But he was chuckling too, and she simply had to teach him a lesson for laughing at her.

So she put a hand at the base of his neck and kissed him properly.

“Does that do it?” Fitz asked when they broke the kiss.

“Do what?”

Fitz grinned from ear to ear. “Even the scales.”

And for that, Jemma simply had to punch him lightly on the arm and kiss him again. 


	20. Daisy and Mack and FitzSimmons!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by [recoveringrabbit](https://recoveringrabbit.tumblr.com/).

“What? No!”

Jemma only grinned at him.

“No, that’s not possible. You beat me with Princess Peach?”

Fitz threw down the controller and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Jemma scoffed.

“Why does it matter if I beat you with Princess Peach? Or if I beat you at all, hmm?” She leveled a challenging gaze at him. “You should be used to me beating you by now.”

“It’s not that. It's—”

They both stopped when they heard a heavy knock at the door. Fitz shook his head at Jemma.

“Mack.”

“Wasn’t he just on a mission?”

Fitz bolted to the door while Jemma quickly turned the TV off and followed suit. The door opened to reveal that it was indeed Mack, but he had something in his arms.

“Daisy?”

“I don’t know how you guys always manage to say things in unison,” Mack said, trying to catch his breath. “It freaks me out.”

Jemma reached out to feel Daisy’s pulse. “Bring her inside,” she instructed. “Fitz.”

Fitz nodded. “Put her on the couch.”

It wasn’t long before Jemma had retrieved her medical bag and began her examination of Daisy.

“What happened to her?”

Mack shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. We found her in East L.A. with this guy who can turn himself into fire. He burned her.”

“I see that,” said Jemma. “It’s a small burn, but it’s pretty severe.”

“She’s lucky you got her out of there,” said Fitz.

Jemma looked to Fitz, then Mack. “She’s lucky you found her at all.” She frowned. “Well, apart from the burns, she looks okay. You used an ICER on her?”

“Yeah,” confirmed Mack. “I had to.”

“Why, did she …” Fitz squeezed his eyes shut. “Did she fight you?”

Fitz saw the flicker in Mack’s eyes and knew they were both thinking the same thing—was she the same now as she was under Hive’s sway? It’s a question the team had been asking ever since she left.

“Coulson …” Mack stammered, “Coulson told us to believe the best of her.”

“Yeah,” said Fitz, “but Coulson isn’t in charge anymore.”

Mack looked over to Jemma and frowned. “So, you going to rat Daisy out, Simmons? Just because the new director doesn’t understand what’s going on?" 

"Of course not,” she shot back. “Daisy will be safe here. Right, Fitz?”

Fitz found that he was rubbing his neck, trying to breathe.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Simmons?”

Jemma jumped back when she felt her patient stirring. “Daisy, you’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Daisy tried to lift prop herself up on her elbows and winced. Jemma immediately grabbed Daisy to stop her. “You’ve been wounded.”

“Yeah, feels that way,” Daisy said. She looked around and squinted. “Where am I?”

“Our apartment,” answered Fitz. “It’s not on the Playground. You’ll be safe here.”

Daisy raised a sleepy eyebrow at him. “You and Mack have an apartment?”

Fitz gave an alarmed look at Mack. “No! No, it’s, um … it’s me and Jemma. _Our_ apartment.”

“Oh,” she said, “I guess that makes more sense.” She rubbed her temples and groaned. “Congratulations. I guess.”

“Hey,” said Mack, “I’ve got to get going before they notice I’m gone. But it’s good to see you, Tremors.”

“Yeah,” Daisy replied, “it’s uh … thanks.”

Mack smiled and made his way out the door, leaving her alone with Fitz, Jemma, and a very uncomfortable silence.

“So,” said Jemma, “I’ve bandaged your wound, so please be careful with it.” She helped Daisy sit up and found herself looking at her friend, all words lost to her.

“We were playing Mario Kart,” Fitz stammered. “You … you should join us.”

Daisy shook her head. “Actually, I should go. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” argued Jemma, “what’s troubling is Fitz’s apparent inability to accept that women can be good at video games.”

“That’s not what I—”

Daisy whipped her head around to glare at Fitz. “Really, Fitz? I thought you were more evolved than that!”

Fitz gaped at her. “I am! I am _very_ evolved. I was raised by a single mother, you know. I saw first-hand how capable—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Daisy winced as she reached for a controller, but smiled in victory when she got it. “Still looks like you need a refresher course. Should we teach him a lesson, Simmons?”

Jemma nodded while Fitz groaned, and it wasn’t long before Daisy found herself in a FitzSimmons sandwich on the couch.

“We really missed you, Daisy,” Jemma said with a smile.

Daisy looked ahead and sighed.

“Yeah,” she said, “me too.”


	21. As the harsh wind swirled around him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [First prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/156696123547/for-the-first-sentence-thing-as-the-harsh-wind) by anonymous. [Second prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/156812429902/he-tried-to-form-his-thoughts-into-words-but-the) by [choko-nyan](https://choko-nyan.tumblr.com/).

As the harsh wind swirled around him, it was obvious that if he didn't get indoors soon, the blood from the gash in his forehead was going to freeze in place.

What he should have been doing was trying to find the entrance to the Zephyr, which was around here, somewhere … or was it? It’s too cold, and his head hurt so much that it was hard to see more than a big black mass off to his right. He took a step towards it and wobbled, losing his balance and falling face first into the ice and snow. He was trying to get up … was trying to get up, but his body was heavy and getting heavier, and he just couldn’t seem to—

“Fitz!”

He didn’t understand, at first, why he was rising from the snow until he felt his coat pulling at his armpits, which meant that someone was pulling his coat. The black mass came closer, and soon the wind was gone, replaced by a warm pair of hands on each cheek and two lips on his.

“Stay awake, Fitz,” Jemma commanded, and he reached out for her when she vanished. She returned soon enough with something white in her hand that she dabbed on his forehead. “Just stay awake, okay?

He heard her take a shuddering breath, and something that sounded a bit like a sob.

“You’re going to be okay, Fitz. I promise.”

He tried to form his thoughts into words, but the cold in his body and the ache in his head and the darkness dancing across his vision were too much, and all he could manage was a feeble groan.

He was dimly aware of the way she fluttered above him, taking heaving breaths as she tended to his wound.

“Stay awake, Fitz,” she commanded again, her voice so soft and sad that Fitz was determined to obey. She left and came back, her hand finding his as something warm and soft was thrown over him.

“Just hold on,” she said, her breaths slowing down to a regular pace, “you’ve been doing so well, but I need you to hold on for a little but longer.”

He tried to smile, tried to ease the worry in her voice. When the words wouldn’t come, he squeezed her hand, hoping his grip and the love in his eyes would be enough to let her know that he wasn’t going anywhere.


	22. No matter how close she got to him, it wasn't close enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/156698482867/no-matter-how-close-she-got-to-him-it-wasnt) by "a href="https://the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl.tumblr.com/">the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl.

No matter how close she got to him, it wasn't close enough

She surged forward, anyway, idly wondering if holding onto this support beam while holding onto him would rip her in two. 

In the end it didn’t matter, because she wasn’t able to grab his hand before the rock he was holding onto gave way, causing him to fall down, down, down.

Her heart was in her throat as she watched him fall, and she tried to call out to him, but it was like she was frozen, still reaching out for him helplessly as he called out her name.

“Jemma?”

She woke with a start to find two blue eyes staring back at her, drooping in exhaustion and concern. She shook her head and pulled the covers around them both, finding relief when she felt his heartbeat under her hand.

“I’m okay Fitz; it was just a bad dream.”


	23. Sunrises + Present!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/150338813977/aos-advent-calendar-8-days-to-go) by [recoveringrabbit](https://recoveringrabbit.tumblr.com/).

Jemma stands in front of the window with her eyes closed, drawing her breaths in slowly and releasing them gently, focusing on nothing other than the sound of the morning and the feel of his hand in hers.

She can feel his pulse, she thinks. Maybe she can also feel her own, waves of pure life flowing from her heart and crashing at her fingertips. It’s a constant rhythm that, before now, has always been drowned out. Her life crashes against his at every point where their skin intersects, and his crashes back. She breathes in new air and feels the calluses on his fingers and thinks that this is exactly how it is supposed to be.

There is no SHIELD here, no Hydra, no despair or guilt. There is only her, and him, and the space they share. Her heartbeat pounds the past and present to dust, and her breaths blow them away.

She smiles at the glow beyond her eyelids. She’s afraid to break the spell, but she dares to let just a silver of light in, orange and pink and absolutely lovely. It’s not enough, so she opens one eye, then another, and she basks in the glow of this new day. This, she feels instinctively, will be a day full of promise and possibility.

He squeezes her hand, and that’s enough to entice her to tear her eyes away from the window and drink him in. She can’t describe the way the sunbeams illuminate him, but she doesn’t have to. She only has to enjoy it, enjoy him, enjoy the sunrise they’re sharing together. 

In a few minutes, the past and future will compact them into bodies and brains, but right now, they are limitless.

In this small, endless moment, they are the same; infinite and inseparable, and all she wants is to live in it as long as she can.


	24. Post-Framework FitzSimmons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A speculative drabble.

“Fitz?”

She stumbles into the room, so panicked that she has to make herself take deep breaths just so she can see straight. When she scans the room, she finds them. 

She finds him.

She’ll get to the others, but she has to get to him first. It’s not a choice as much as a need, not a need so much as an inevitability. His lips are chapped and he looks weak, but he’s here. She cradles his head in her hands and places her forehead against his, just for a second, just to draw strength and prove to herself that it’s real. She relishes her moment and swallows when she has to let go. She only does it long enough to free him, because when he falls out of his restraints, she’s there. He’s half-starved, but he’s still heavy, and she has to guide him down to sit on the floor. He groans in discomfort, and she runs her fingers through his hair, soothing him as best she can with half-formed words.

“Jemma,” he croaks, blinking up at her. “Jemma, wha—”

“Yes,” she says. Her heart stops when he frowns at her, furrowing his brow.

“Yes?”

Her hand moves to his cheek, and he leans into her touch. She fought a war to win him back, and this one gesture makes it worth it.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she clarifies.

 He’s adorably groggy, and she can’t help but smile at his confusion.

“Did I ask you to marry me?’

“No,” she answers, her smile widening, “but if you ever did, that’d be my answer.”

He stares at her for a moment, like he doesn’t quite get what she’s saying, and Jemma wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. They’ve both been through a lot, and he has a right to be a little disoriented. Maybe that’s the only reason she has the courage to say it. Maybe not. Maybe it was the desperate fear that she’d never get a chance.

“Okay,” he says as his head bobs to the other side, then back, “good to know.”

She wants to laugh, or to sweep him up in her arms, or to kiss him all over. She can’t do any of that now, with a half-asleep engineer and four other people to save. She settles for one kiss, short and meaningful, that makes Fitz smile with closed eyes.

“Mmm,” he says, “also good.”

She nudges his playfully with her shoulder as she stands up.

“Well,” she says, “after all I went through to get you back, I would hope so.”


	25. “Go back to sleep” and “It can wait until tomorrow”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/159367309102/hi-jane-41-and-62-for-the-prompt-please) by [hemnalini](http://hemnalini.tumblr.com/).

“I love you,” she says with her face buried in his shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

He shifts to his side, his back turned to her. She knows he’s doing it out of guilt, but she still feels the sting. 

“Fitz,” she says, throwing her arm around his middle, “please.”

“How am I supposed to sleep, knowing what I’ve done?” 

She hates the crack in his voice, the uncertainty that radiates from him. She pulls herself closer, pressing her forehead into his back and hating Aida with her whole soul.

“Because you didn’t do any of it,” she says. “You _wouldn’t_ do any of it. It wasn’t you.”

“But if it _was_ ,” he says, “if my life had been different, I might have …”

_“No.”_

She buries herself in him, wishing he’d come back to her. She’s spent so many nights without him that she can’t bear even the smallest separation. Can’t he feel it? 

“Jemma …”

_“Fitz.”_

“What if I’d hurt you?“ He curls into a fetal position, ripping himself away from her. “What if you couldn’t come back, because of me?”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have—”

“Fitz!” There are tears in her eyes now, because she’s so tired, and she remembers the eyes that looked like his, the hands that drove a knife into her thigh. She remembers, too, the man who Aida twisted him into. She just got the real Fitz back, the one that she loves, and she won’t waste this time on the things that he’s not.

“Fitz, can you _please_ , just, be with me? I spent so long worried that I’d lost you.”

“Hey.”

It’s not until he turns around that she feels safe enough to actually cry, and there’s nothing she loves more than the feeling of his arms around her, than the sound of his whispers in her ear.

“I’m sorry, Jemma,” he says. 

“You didn’t _do anything_.”

“I know, that’s not what I mean. 

_“Fitz.”_

She opens her eyes and finds him staring down at her with worry. 

“Jemma?”

“I love you,” she says, and he should know that this is a ringing endorsement, that she has always been so careful with her heart. “Can we please, just, talk about this tomorrow?”

She watches him study her, and there’s a part of her that wishes she could have AIDA’s abilities, that she could go into his mind and wipe away anything that hurt him. She knows, though, from recent and painful experience, that it would do more harm than good. 

He smiles in response, leaning forward to kiss her forehead and tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Does he understand how much she loves him? Will she ever find a way to express it?

“It can wait until tomorrow,” he agrees, settling down onto his back. He lifts his arm, inviting her in, and she seizes the opportunity. This is her very favorite place, she decides. She may have to fight totalitarian regimes, but she’ll never let him go.

The problems, of course, won’t disappear overnight. They’ll simply have to work it out, piece by piece, until AIDA’s meddling is completely out of their lives.  But when she’s lying here, falling asleep with the one she loves most, it’s hard to care about anything but the heart that beats under her hand, the chest that rises and falls with each breath.

It’s true that they’ve been through a lot, that the universe has ripped them apart more often than it has a right to. But in the end, as her eyelids grow heavy and the world goes dark, she can only feel lucky that he is here, and she is fortunate enough to be with him.


	26. “It’s two sugars, right?” and “Take a deep breath”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/159808943337/64-or-98-fitzsimmons-please) by itssciencefitz.
> 
> Hospital AU. Specifically, an alternate universe in which everything below is medically accurate :)

 

“It’s two sugars, right?”

Fitz turns to see _her_ , the doctor who couldn’t be real. And yet, there she is, sitting down at his table, offering him a cup of tea. He reaches out and is almost surprised when he can touch the handle. His eyes flick up to hers, and he wonders why she seems so expectant before he realizes that she asked him a question.

“Um, y-yes.” He takes the mug in both hands, thankful for the warmth. Is every hospital cafeteria as frigid as this one? When he dares to look at her again, she’s beaming at him.

“Good,” she says. “I mean … I just happened to notice. I’m a big fan of yours.” She offers her hand with such excitement that Fitz finds her absolutely radiant. “Dr. Jemma Simmons. I’ve been fascinated by your work in non-lethal weapons.”

Fitz frowns, trying not to look at her hand, or her face, or anything at all. In the end, though, it’s the sound of his mother’s voice in his head that makes him suck in a breath and go for it. He doesn’t shake her hand as much as he puts his open hand in hers, but she pumps it up and down as if he had. She doesn’t even know that this is his _good_ hand.

“Sorry,” he says, “I just … I …”

“Have hypoxia?” she supplies, then grimaces. “Sorry. That’s—I probably shouldn’t have said it that way. But I did read the article about your accident. I’m thrilled to see how well you’ve recovered.”

Fitz looks down at his rumpled shirt, and he’s just about to ask her what she means when the tremors start in his bad hand. He sucks a breath through his teeth, and as the pain makes his eyes close, he sees a glimmer of her face.

She’s horrified.

And why shouldn’t she be? He’s not the engineer she thinks he is, and if his progress continues to plateau, he never will be again. He rubs his bad hand and wishes he could just shrink until she couldn’t see him.

“Are you alright?”

He’s in so much pain that he can only shake his head, trying his best to stay calm.

“Th-this one’s … worse,” he tries to explain, and when he hears the scoot of her chair, he honestly doesn’t blame her. Who would want to have tea with someone so broken? So when her hand lands on his shoulder, he almost jumps.

“Dr. Fitz,” she soothes, “I’m not a medical doctor—I just work here in the research wing—but I have been reading up on therapy techniques and I … do you mind?”

He looks up at her through the tears in his eyes and nods, willing to try anything. 

She smiles, taking his hand in hers. “Take a deep breath,” she says. 

He does as she says, and he swears that his heart stops before she even starts massaging his tendons. The tears dry as he stares at her, this doctor just as old as he is, more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen. He almost doesn’t notice that the pain has disappeared until she offers a triumphant smile.

“Better?”

He looks down at his hand, utterly amazed. “How, how did you—”

“It’s a simple technique, really,” she explains, looking at him through her eyelashes, “but it does take two hands. If it helps, you can always ring for me. I’m happy to offer my services.”

He furrows his brow, more than slightly overwhelmed by how close she is. “I’m—I’m not st-staying here. I’m just …” He winces as all words fail him.

“Killing time between appointments? Well, then you can ring for me when you’re here, I guess. _You_ might not live here, but _I_ might as well.” She offers him a kind smile as her hand falls on his knee. Even if his brain weren’t broken, he’d have no idea what to say.

“J-jemma Simmons?” he manages, flooded with relief when she smiles in response. He points to his chest. “I’m, uh, Leopold Fitz.”

Somehow, her smile feels like a laugh.

“I know,” she says.


	27. "You didn't have to ask"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by anonymous.
> 
> This is somewhere between canon compliant and an AU. Bendy canon, I call it.

“You didn’t have to ask,” he says one day as he sits on her dorm room floor, sifting through pages of notes. “I was going to come over anyway. I know you’re worried about this exam.”

She hopes he doesn’t see the way she smiles in relief, because really, they haven’t known each other that long. She’s never actually had a friend before—not the kind who wants to spend time with her  _outside_ of class—and she’s still not sure about the rules.

“Thank you, Fitz,” she manages. He doesn’t even look up from the textbook in his hand.

“Do you have any pretzels here?”

She smiles. “Of course I do.”

* * *

“You didn’t have to ask,” he groans, ducking his head into his folded arms. “Why did you ask?”

She leans back in their booth and takes a sip of her milkshake.

“Really, Fitz, it wasn’t that bad.”

“But you had to know that if you even _hinted_ at having _any_ curiosity about my childhood, my mum would likely bring out the whole blasted scrapbook. You didn’t have to … say it out loud and make sure of it.”

She swallows and grabs a chip (a french fry, as they’re called here), and dips it in the shake. “Fitz …”

“I don’t even know why you asked! Who pokes her head into her friend’s Skype session with his mum and asks, and I quote, “Has our Fitz always been such a handful?” He sits up, folding his arms with a defiant scowl. Jemma frowns.

“I hate it when you use that voice,” she says.

“Yeah,” he says, “well, I’m not a fan of everything you do, either.”

It’s hard to stay mad at him, especially when he’s so embarrassed. Jemma doesn’t think about it that way as much as she feels it in her gut, as if there’s a piece of her that hurts when he hurts. If she ever dwelt on the hows and whys of that feeling, she might come to a startling conclusion. Instead, she acts on instinct, getting up to sit on his side of the booth and putting a hand on his shoulder until his grumpiness fades, and he covers her hand with his.

* * *

“You didn’t have to ask,” he says as he dries his legs with a towel. Jemma’s attention is on Antoine Triplett, who’s smiling broadly when talking to Skye, and she’s almost startled at the question.

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t have to ask if I was Hydra,” he repeats. He retrieves his socks and shoes, following her eyes to where the their friends chat by the pool. “Didn’t you … aren’t you worried?”

She smiles, partly because she thinks Skye might be blushing, and partly because her best friend is a ridiculous man.

“Of course not,” she says. “I know who you are.”

She expects some kind of stubborn retort, but she turns to look at him when she only hears silence. It wounds her a little, to see the doubt in his eyes, like he’s not sure who he is. The world might have fallen apart, but can’t he see that he’s the one constant she has? That all of this is a little easier since he’s going through it with her? She can’t let him lose sight of the hope they have left.

“Don’t you think they look nice together?” she asks, nodding towards Trip and Skye. “I think so.”

Fitz’s eyes dart towards their friends, then back at her, then down at his shoes.

“I suppose I wouldn’t know,” he says. She gives him a teasing smile.

“Well, at long last, we’ve found something.”

* * *

“You didn’t have to ask,” he says when he finally comes back, still clad from head to toe in battle gear. She’s still cleaning up after taking care of Coulson, but she knew it was him the moment he walked in the door.

“You didn’t have to ask,” he repeats, and she’s sure it’s because she’s so silent, but what do you say to a man after you’ve told him you might love him back?

“I would have been careful,” he says.

She tucks some hair behind her ear and smiles at the floor. “That’s not what you told me.”

“Yeah,” he says, “well, I—”

“Fitz!”

They both turn towards Mack’s booming voice to find him leaning against he doorway.

“Hey, can you help me with something?”

Fitz turns to Jemma, then to Mack, then back to Jemma.

“I … well, actually I have to …”

She smiles, shaking her head at him. “Go,” she says, “I can finish up here.”

He looks over at her medical equipment, then blanches. “Um, yeah, I’ll just … I’ll go. But we’ll talk later?”

She nods, knowing a blush is spreading across her cheeks and finding she doesn’t care. “We’ll talk later.”

He watches her a second, like he’s sure she’ll change her mind, but turns to leave when Mack calls for him again.

“I’ll be careful, Jemma,” he says.

She watches him go, beaming. “I know you will.”

She’s still smiling when he’s out of sight, feeling something rise in her chest that she wants to keep to herself. She’ll share it with him, too, when the time is right. For now, though, she savors their secret.

* * *

“You didn’t have to ask,” he whispers. She swallows as she sidles up behind him, wishing she could just put her hand on his arm, his shoulder, his chest. He gave her his whole heart, and she ruined it.

“Fitz, I—”

“He’s an innocent man trapped on a desert planet,” he continues. “Wouldn’t be right to leave him there. Of course we have to go back for him.”

She tries to speak, but the words get caught in her throat. How can she tell him that the guilt is eating her alive? The longer she stays on this planet, on her home planet—with a shower and a bed and a gravitational force that’s not pulling her down—the more she realizes that her time in that other world lead her to a certain insanity. She doesn’t know how to tell him that the closer she is to him, the closer she is to feeling right in her own mind.

“Fitz,” she says, inching towards to him, “I knew you’d do the right thing.”

He looks up at her, and his eyes are so clear and so blue that she thinks she could dive into them. This is what true love is, she thinks; not one heroic act, but a thousand small ones. She tries to do a heroic deed of her own by placing her hand on his arm and rubbing her thumb up an down with intent. He has to know that he’s the only thing that’s real to her.

“Yeah?”

He looks so young when he says it, younger than he was when she met him. All his ego has leaked out of him by now, leaving him like a deflated balloon. All she wants it to send him back in the atmosphere where he belongs. He watches her hand for a moment then covers her hand with his. A smile breaks out on its own, spreading across her face without effort. There’s a part of him that still belongs to her, and she’ll never let go of it. She only needed to learn that lesson once.  

“Yeah,” she says.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” he says. Jemma lifts her head from his shoulder and blinks the sleep out of them, not quite sure how long she was out. She looks down at the papers scattered across the floor and tells herself that she’ll be better at fighting Hive in the morning.

“Mmm,” she hums into his shoulder, “sorry for what?”

She expects him to lay his head on top of hers, but instead, his muscles tense.

“For kissing you.” She feels his cheek brush against her hair and his head hangs down. “Both times, I just went for it. I should have asked first; I didn’t mean to—”

“Fitz?” It feels like her head is made of lead, but she raises it anyway. “Fitz.”

That’s enough to get him to look at her, his clear blue eyes still shining in the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“I kissed you back, each time,” she says, reaching out to cup his jaw. He closes his eyes, and she knows he’s remembering. “I’d like to keep kissing you, if that’s alright.”

He nods, somewhat sheepishly, and she grins as she returns to her place on his shoulder. They’ll have a real talk in the morning, but until then she can bask in the comfort of being next to her best friend, just as she’s always wanted to be. As she drifts off, she feels a pleasant exhaustion from her hard-won battles, knowing her greatest victory is the hand that holds hers.

“Fitz,” she says, and it’s true that he’s her favorite word. It’s true that he’s her favorite everything.

“Hmm?”

“Fitz,” she repeats, “You didn’t have to ask. You never do, with me.”

She thinks that he smiles into her hair, and it’s just as possible that he’s already asleep, but she’ll tell him again of she needs to. For now, she drifts off wrapped up in the memory of him, of how he used to be and how he is now. She’s been in love with him a long time, she realizes. There’s no need and no time for questions when their hearts have been entwined this long.

Besides, she thinks as she slips into her dreams, they have too many kisses to make up for.


	28. “It’s okay.  I couldn’t sleep anyway.” and “I want you to be happy.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by anonymous.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean, to … I just can’t seem to …”

She reaches over to where he lays next to her on the bed, finding his hand and holding it tight.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I couldn’t sleep, anyway.”

She doesn’t blame him for tossing and turning, after the string of nightmares he’s been through. She feels it herself in the way she has to keep making sure he’s really here. 

“I just can’t …” He sucks in a breath. “It’s all so—”

“It wasn’t you,” she says. “None of that was you. That wasn’t your life.” 

She squeezes his hand and reminds herself that it wasn’t her life, either. She didn’t watch him bleed. She didn’t stab the life out of him. She crossed a universe to save him just like he did for her, just like she will always do. 

“Jemma,” he breathes, and she has to roll onto her side to watch him. He’s there, and he’s breathing, and she’ll make sure no one takes him away from her, ever. She puts her free hand on his chest and watches his eyes flutter.

“I want you to be happy, Jemma.”

“Fitz,” she says, letting go of his hand only so she can prop herself up at look down at him, “I am happy. You have to believe that.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, and she doesn’t want to know what he sees. She puts a hand on his cheek so he’ll see her instead.

“It wasn’t your life, Fitz. None of it was real. You can’t hold yourself responsible.”

He covers the hand on his chest with his own, rubbing her thumb with his.

“You saved me,” he says. “You saw who I was, and you saved me.”

She takes his hand properly, sliding her fingers between his.

“I always will.“ 

“Jemma …”

“You were worth saving, Fitz.” She lets go of his hand to run her fingers through his hair, smiling when he closes his eyes. “You’re still the best man I know. No one stole that from you.”

She swipes a thumb across his cheek and leans in for a kiss, afraid at first that he won’t kiss her back. He does, though with more force than she expected. He kisses her so passionately that she understands why his hand is in her hair, why he flips her over to be on top. This is not a time for Fitz to fight against gravity.

She’s surprised by his heat, but she relishes it. She’s been fighting for so long, and she’s been waiting for this victory, for this release of pent-up love. She finds that she’s smiling into his lips, and he only pulls away because she’s laughing.

“Jemma?”

She’s blinking back tears, and aren’t emotions strange? She’s crying and laughing, and they both should be asleep.

“They’re never going to take you away from me, are they?” Her hand is still on his cheek, his lips are too far away, but she needs him to know. “They can’t, because I’m never going to let them.”

“No,” he says, carding his fingers through her hair. “No one stands a chance against you. And if they ever tried to take you from me, well …” He lowers his head, and she wishes he could feel her joy. The best she can do is grab his hand and let him feel the beating of her heart.

“They won’t take you from me, will they?” Fitz furrows his brow. “Even if I’m …”

She sees the tears shining in his eyes, and she wonders if it will work one more time, if her kiss can soothe his heartache. This one is slow, but his fingers curl over her skin. 

“They won’t,” she promises. “You won’t let them.”

“I won’t let them,” he repeats, and she hopes he knows what she means, that he is strong enough to overcome the demons the Framework gave him, that he won’t have to fight them alone. 

When he kisses her lips, her face, her neck, she thinks he understands. 

It’s late, but sleep was never going to come for them tonight. Maybe it will find them in the morning, when their exhaustion overcomes their need. They’ll wake up as two bodies tangled into one, still heavy with sleep and full of each other, knowing half the day is gone and not caring one bit. 

Jemma knows that this is what she means, that this is what she’s been fighting for. Together, they will steal the time that was stolen from them. Together, they will show the cosmos once and for all they are the only thing that is truly inevitable.


	29. “I was in the neighborhood,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of [this prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/161010107942/are-you-still-doing-the-prompt-thing-if-so-fs) by anonymous.
> 
> Academy AU.

“FITZ!”

Jemma jumps up from the table and comes at him so fast that Fitz freezes, even as she flings her arms around him. He’s afraid that the ice cream parlor door will swing closed and bang right into him, but it’s a near miss.

“Fitz, imagine meeting you here!”

Fitz shrugs. “I was … in the neighborhood?”

Jemma only grins at him. “I was just about to tell Stewart all about the project we’re working on! Come and sit with us!”

Fitz’s eyes dart from Jemma to the man who must be Stewart. The two exchange an awkward wave as Jemma all but pulls him into an empty seat.

“This is my best friend, Fitz,” she says, “and I haven’t seen him in ages. How are you doing these days, Fitz?”

He pauses, about to tell her that he saw her this morning and he’s not sure which project she’s referring to, or how they could be working on one if they haven’t seen each other, but Stewart cuts him off.

“You know, I bet Fitz came here to get some ice cream,” Stewart says. “And as it happens, I’m something of a culinary expert.” Stewart throws him a smug, flashy smile, and Fitz tries his best to not raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh you are? That’s … interesting.”

“Stewart has been telling me all about his vast knowledge of food,” Jemma deadpans. “The onion soup at The Outback, for example.”

Stewart winks at him. “Impeccable.”

“And,” continues Jemma, “he has a very discerning palate. He tried _every single ice cream flavor_ , then several combinations of flavors, before making his choice.”

Fitz looks over at the barrels of ice cream, knowing that there’s well over thirty-one flavors there. When he turns back to Jemma, he sees that her bowl of ice cream has already melted. It’s not until he sees the desperation in Jemma’s eyes that it all clicks:

Jemma and Stewart are on a date. And it is going _badly_.

“Here,” says Stewart, getting up, “let me show you.” Before Fitz or Jemma can stop him (Jemma actually makes an attempt at grabbing Stewart’s arm), he’s gone. 

“I thought you had dinner plans,” Fitz whispers, watching an oblivious Stewart receive death glares from every employee behind the counter.

Jemma clenches both fists. “So did I!”

“So, what,” asks Fitz, “he said he’d take you out to dinner and didn’t feed you?”

“And then he spent the entire night talking about food,” she confirms.

Fitz facepalms. “Goodness gracious.” 

Jemma’s not only on a bad date with a socially-inept narcissist—she’s starving.

“Here you go,” says Stewart, “it’s pistachio and—get this—bubble gum.”

Fitz takes the proffered spoonful of ice cream and doesn’t dare to look at Jemma before putting it in his mouth.

“Amazing isn’t it?” asks Stewart. Fitz swallows.

“It’s definitely something.”

“Come on,” says Stewart, “let me treat you to something. I still have a little bit left on my gift card.”

It’s then that Fitz can’t stop himself from looking over at Jemma, who casually motions towards the tip jar, which stands empty. He shudders.

“Actually,” Fitz says, “actually, I, um I came here to get Jemma. Her lab cultures are …” He grapples for a word, but three semesters of biology fail him. “Sick.”

_“What?”_

Jemma stands up so quickly that she tips over her chair, then sets it right, then straightens and grabs her purse. “I’m sorry, Stewart, but those cultures are worth half my grade. If there’s anything wrong with them, I’m done for!” She reaches her hand out, and Stewart shakes it reluctantly. “Have a lovely evening.”

Fitz has just enough time to retrieve a handful of bills from his wallet and toss them in the tip jar on their way out.

“Ugh, Fitz!” She puts her head in her hands and groans. “That is the _last_ time I let any _anyone_ set me up on a date. Maybe it’s the last time I’ll go on a date at all.” 

When he opens the car door for her, she sits down about as crossly as anyone is capable of sitting, and he smiles to himself as he shuts the door and walks around the car.

“Fitz,” she says when takes his seat, “do you know precisely how many words came out of my mouth before your miraculous arrival?”

Fitz furrows his brow and sneaks a glance at her as he puts the car in gear. “How many?”

“One,” she says. “‘Hello.’”

“No,” he says, gaping. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She folds her arms, still stewing. “Not that I didn’t have anything to say, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But he insisted on telling me the most boring stories without letting me get a word in edgewise! I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up. I thought he’d be interesting to talk to, seeing as he picks up dead bodies and brings them to the Academy morgue.”

Fitz grimaces. “He … what?”

“I thought he’d have fascinating stories about dead powered people,” she says with a shrug. “And he had plenty of stories, alright—all simultaneously boring and inappropriate. I’m not exactly sure how he did it. _Ugh_ ,” she says again. “I swear, the only good man left in this world is you, and you’re not interested.”

Fitz almost stops the car, feeling that the air has been sucked out of it. “What?”

“What?” Jemma asks in return, bewildered, until she sees his expression and all the color drains from her face. “I didn’t—I just meant hypothetically that—I mean, it’s not like I’ve _met_ every man in the world, so that was an obvious generalization.” 

The car comes to a red light and he stops, clutching tighter at the steering wheel as his hands become slick with sweat.

“Did you—are _you_ interested?”

Jemma becomes suddenly enthralled with the hands clasped together in her lap, and he has his answer in her blushing cheeks. He stares at her so long that he doesn’t notice the light has turned green until the person behind him honks.

“I, um.” He clears his throat, grateful he has an excuse to watch the road. “I mean, if I _did_ ask you on a date,” he says, “you’d go with me?”

She looks over at him briefly, then picks at the lint on her dress. “If you asked,” she says.

“Well, I … what if we go right now?”

That gets her to look at him again with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, look, you’re already starving; we might as well get something to eat.” He swallows, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “You can get as much food as you like, because you know I won’t judge you, even if you order half the menu.”

“Go on,” she says.

“And, um, and you can talk my ear off about cellular biology, and I’ll thank you for it, since I need to study anyway. And if it ends up not working out, we pretend nothing happened and go right back to being friends.”

“Fitz,” she says, and he’s sure that he wants the street to open up and swallow him whole, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He’s never been more relieved in his life. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms. “I only have one condition.”

He looks over at her, and this time, he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“The Outback,” they say in unison.

* * *

“Fitz,” she says as they leave the restaurant, “why haven’t we done this already?”

To be honest, he’d been asking himself the same question. This dinner has been just as wonderful as all the dinners they’ve shared, except there was a twinkle in her eyes as she talked and a playfulness in her words.

Except, he notes with pride, this time they left the restaurant arm in arm, with her head on his shoulder.

“Oh look, Fitz, the stars!”

He stops at her command and follows her gaze, agreeing that they are indeed magnificent. But as he turns back to ask her a question and finds himself a breath away from her, all thoughts leave him. He bends down to her as her lips meet him halfway, and surely, _this_ is the most magnificent thing in the universe.

When he pulls back to look at her, she smiles.

“And to think,” she says, “a few hours ago, I was having the worst date of my life.”

He smiles back at her, suddenly bold. “How is this one going?”

She answers by grabbing him by the collar and kissing him again.


	30. "It doesn't bother me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of [this prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/161342407292/fs-85-it-doesnt-bother-me-please-and-thank) by anonymous and inspired by [this work of magnificence](http://captainironnerd.tumblr.com/post/161327624094/today-was-gonna-be-the-first-day-of-the-30-days).

Jemma opens one eye, taking a deep breath only when she sees that it really is him in her arms. She’s bone tired, of course, but she finds herself drifting in and out of sleep with a need to see the curve of his ear or the rise and fall of his cheekbones as he breathes. Her hands lay directly over his chest, and the drumming of his heart provides an all-encompassing relief more powerful than sleep. She selfishly hugs him tighter and releases the air from her lungs.

He is breathing.

His heart is beating.

He is here.

He is hers.

There may be a day when she takes this for granted. One day, she’ll be so used to waking up tangled in him that it will simply be a part of her morning routine, that they will wake up and smile at each other with no need to hold on tight. Maybe they’ll simply continue living the life they built together without worrying that it will all fall apart. 

Today, though, she treasures these golden moments when the sky isn’t falling, when he is Fitz and she is Simmons. They’ve been separated too many times but together, they make something magnificent.

She feels him begin to stir, knowing he is squinting against the sunlight even though she can’t see him. His body must be heavy from sleep and warm from being wrapped up in her, as even her ice bucket hands have melted into him. His hand covers hers where it lays on his chest, and he groans.

“Can we stay here?”

She’s not sure if he’s talking to her or just talking in his sleep, so she buries her face into his neck and waits.

“I know you made your plans,” he mumbles, "but we can finish tomorrow.” 

Realization dawns on her as she lets her world grow wider than the two of them and this bed, until it encompasses the mountain of boxes that lay at their feet. There’s a similar mountain in each room of their new flat, each one a carefully-labeled stack that is to be dismantled in a pre-determined sequence. It was a different Jemma who made that plan, one who was so fixated on securing their future that she lost her grip on their present. As sound as the plan may be, it doesn’t account for exhaustion or naps, and it certainly doesn’t anticipate her current need to hold on to this moment as tightly as she’s holding on to him. If she’s learned anything in the past few years, it’s that some plans are meant fall into ruins.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she whispers into his ear, and it really doesn’t. She has a timetable, but this is bigger than time. “We can sleep if you want.”

“I do,” he groans, now hugging the arms that are hugging him. “Just a little bit longer.”

She smiles into his neck as she feels him slip back into his dreams, wishing at once that she could go with him and stay here, cherishing each moment she has at the same time she yearns for a thousand more.

How she could ever take this for granted, she doesn’t know. Maybe they’ll stay like this, but maybe their edges will soften until they can hold each other close without the fear of getting ripped away. Maybe their wounds will heal into the kinds of scars that make them stronger. For now, she will let herself have both the things she wants, snuggling even closer to him as she dreams about the future they’ll have. 

She closes her eyes and lets a vision unfold before her, letting their flat get covered in vines as it grows large enough to stand on its own. Sleep marches towards her to the beat of his heart, and as her body gets heavy, she knows this may be another plan destined for change.

But as she breathes in his scent, reveling in him as her dreams overtake her, she finds that this doesn’t bother her, either.

After all, everything she wants is already in her arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I regularly post sneak peeks and general ramblings about my writing on [my tumblr](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/tagged/Writings%20of%20Agent%2085).


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